


Running the Institute

by Drowsy_Salamander



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Comedy, F/F, POV Outsider, spoilers up to season 5, the magnus archives is a workplace comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:21:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27878306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drowsy_Salamander/pseuds/Drowsy_Salamander
Summary: The Magnus Institute, a temple to the almighty Beholding, home of the fabled Archivist, heart of the Ceaseless Watcher, and an office. And not everyone in this office is aware of just what is going on. Consequently, things look pretty damn weird from the outside.Caroline Ferguson, the entirety of the Magnus Institute's legal department, is furiously ignoring any weirdness that could be going on in her workplace, from the tech issues to the vanishing colleagues to theeverythingabout Artefact Storage, Caroline will turn a very deliberate blind eye. They're are not her problem. Now if only those murders could also stop.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Comments: 30
Kudos: 80
Collections: TMA Big Bang 2020





	Running the Institute

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank my fabulous betas and artists. @bisexualoftheblade and Cess and Reese.  
> Seriously, you guys are amazing and helped me so much.
> 
> This is a fic I've been working on for ages so it is fabulous to actually be able to send it out there. I hope you like it! I've gotten very attached to it and the characters, and it's very funny if I say so myself.

[IMAGE ID: The background is a picture of multiple papers. They are dispersed at different angles and filled with small typed writing. The edges of the papers are slightly yellowed. In the center of the picture is one paper that is a darker gray than the other papers. It is lined with the letters "Running the Institute" typed in large black Century font. END ID]

...

Working at the Magnus Institute wasn’t as bad as it could’ve been. That wasn’t to say it was good, far from it, but it could always have been worse. The Institute was actually more professional than it would seem from the 1999 leaks but it was still the Magnus Institute, paranormal investigator extraordinaire. Caroline distinctly disliked the quickly hidden disdain her family and old classmates had given her when she’d told them just where she’d gotten a job. It was a bit embarrassing she could admit, to see her old friends go off to join Clifford Chance and Linklaters while she became the entire legal team of a supernatural academic foundation. Still she’d been here for over a decade now and her initial hopes of this being a simple placeholder job had long since evaporated.

Didn’t mean that her job wasn’t damn weird sometimes.

“Oh, Caroline!” Rosie said brightly upon seeing her enter. “The Library needs you to look at their contract with one of their suppliers. Apparently, there the newest shipment was late because the delivery man got lost, something about the roads twisting in on themselves, which seems rather silly to me.”

“Got it,” Caroline muttered.

“There’s also a new member of the Artefact Storage team. He seems like a nice fellow, I’m certain he’ll fit in well.”

“I’m sure he will, Rosie.” Caroline agreed, more focused on her coffee than social niceties. “I suppose I need to give him the talk.”

“Elias rather wanted you to.” Rosie nodded.

Caroline sighed. “I’ve tried to tell Bouchard this isn’t actually a part of my job but does he listen?”

Rosie gave a sympathetic smile. “I know exactly what you mean, once that man has an idea in his head, it’s impossible to change his mind. But he knows what he’s doing.”

“I’m sure,” Caroline said blandly. “Well, I’ll just be in the office then.” She started up the stairs, doing a good job ignoring the feeling that there were eyes in the walls.

The legal department of the Magnus Institute was something of a misnomer. It wasn’t so much a department as it was a person, Caroline Ferguson. As far as she could tell, it had always been run on a skeleton staff, typically only one person. When she’d joined, Bertie Forester had been available to show her the ropes before he suffered a nervous breakdown two months later. Caroline had been out getting coffee at the time and so missed the more bombastic parts of it. Apparently, Bertie had tried to attack the carved eyes in one of the doorways. She’d come back just in time to hear him sobbing about being watched. The next day Elias had solemnly told her that Bertie had terminated his employment and that she was now the head legal consultant. Which, for some reason, meant she had to run through all the hazard warnings with new employees.

“Mr. Harris, you are aware of the exact terms of your employment in Artefact Storage?” Caroline looked across her desk.

James Harris, the new hire of Artifact Storage, seemed like a slightly nervous young man, his rather prominent Adam’s apple bobbing every time he swallowed. “Yes.”

“So, you are aware that the Magnus Institute cannot be held liable for any physical or mental damage accrued during your tenure?”

“Erm, yes, but that’s just, um, that’s not exactly going to come up much, right?” Harris looked at her hopefully. Bob, bob, went his Adam’s apple. “I mean, I know there will probably be some heavy lifting, but I know I can manage that.”

“Yes, some of the artefacts do require careful movement upon acquisition which can have long term side effects.” Caroline made a small note. “I would recommend informing your GP about this and having regular check-ups. If you start having back pains, the Institute recommends you see a physiotherapist but again, we are not liable for the damage.”

“Right.” Harris said.

“As you are working in Artefact Storage, I will also need you to sign this Non-Disclosure Agreement.” Caroline passed it to him.

“Erm, I thought I already had?” Bob, bob.

“That was the general Institute’s NDA, this one is specific to your department.” He stared at her. “It’s more thorough.” Caroline elaborated.

Harris took a moment to read through it. Caroline waited patiently. “Erm, why is the disclosure period indefinite?”

“Because you’re to never speak of anything in the list that occurs to you.”

“Yes, speaking of the list.” Harris flicked to it. Said list was closer to being a novella than a humble outline. “Why does it mention, um, ‘ _ books of an unnatural nature (unnatural definition see Section 1.4) and said books' effects on co-workers or civilians, up to and including eating them or having severe detrimental effects on their mental wellbeing _ ’? Because I mean, the definition of ‘unnatural’ given in Section 1.4,” Harris turned back to the beginning of the document, “it says ‘ _ things of a possible paranormal nature, inexplicable by scientific methods _ ’ and … why does it mention sentient meat?”

“If you see sentient meat, you aren’t to mention it.” Caroline shrugged.

Harris was clearly starting to panic. “Am I going to see sentient meat?”

“I have no idea. That isn’t covered by my department.” Caroline glanced at the clock on the opposite wall. If this meeting didn’t hurry up, she’d have to take lunch later. She should probably let Jessica and Vivian know.

“Okay.” Harris’ voice had climbed an octave. Caroline decided to tactfully not mention it. “Erm, it also mentions  _ ‘ _ _ the obligations of the recipient regarding the confidential information _ ’.”

“Yes?”

“It says I need t o use ‘ _ appropriate efforts (not less than reasonable efforts) to keep the information secure _ ’ and then lists blackmail as an appropriate effort?” He looked desperately at her. “This doesn’t seem very legal.”

“You’re telling me.” Caroline muttered under her breath. The legal consultant was  _ supposed  _ to be objective and at least a little independent. A place for people to come for advice rather than acting as Elias mouthpiece. Some of the things Elias had requested she draw up fell right into the  _ weird _ category. “Mr. Harris, while it is a rather unusual contract, it is mandatory for everyone who works in Artefact Storage.”

“Right.” That Adam’s apple may as well have been on a trampoline. “Just-just one last thing. Why does it say that it, erm, applies interdepartmentally?” Harris squinted at the legalese. “And why does it specify specifically that I can’t mention anything listed to anyone who works in the Archives?”

“Honestly, I have no idea.” Caroline leaned back in her chair. “Elias is a bit weird about the Archives.”

Harris gave her a look. “Weirder than this?” he held up the NDA.

“Oh, so much weirder. You have no idea.” Caroline sighed. “Now are you going to sign it or will I have to tell him that you’ve already quit?”

Harris stared back down at the contract. After some consideration, he decided that he’d take this nonsense if it came with a job. A fair decision in this economy. 

…

“You remember Michael Shelley?” Vivian asked out of the blue. Vivian Lankaite was the head accountant of the Magnus Institute, a slightly less impressive title upon learning the size of Accounting, but still respectable. She’d been working here for a long time, one of Elias’ first hires and had steadily outlasted all the other accountants. She had an excellent memory and was an incurable gossip. “Worked in the Archives?”

“Not really.” Caroline inclined her head while waiting for the coffee machine to finish.

“Tall, blonde hair, basically a golden retriever.” Vivian glanced at Caroline to see her face still blank. “He left several years back, before that he made the best brownies for Denice’s retirement party.”

“Oh yes,” Caroline said, lightbulb finally sparking, “I do remember him vaguely. Worked in the Archives?”

“That’s the one.” Vivian nodded. “Saw him the other day.”

“Oh?”

“Looks like he’s doing well. I didn’t stop to chat, was running a bit late for work, but he looks like he’s doing well for himself.”

“Where’d you run into him?”

“Saw him in the coffee shop on my commute to the Institute and I was thinking that maybe we should go say hello to him on our lunch break, catch up with him.” Vivian hummed as she leant against the kitchenette counter.

“I’m not sure, we weren’t exactly close. Hell, I couldn’t remember who he was.” Caroline said. “I think we should just let him be.”

“Hmmm, probably.” Vivian sipped her coffee. “But his hair looked great. Really vibrant colour. Wonder what he does to it.” She fiddled idly with her own mousy hair.

“Dyes it, I imagine.” Caroline dismissed.

“Yeah, that’s probably it.” Vivian sighed and finished her coffee.

…

Caroline stepped into the Institute, shaking out her umbrella. The floor by the entrance had managed to acquire a small pool of water from previous sodden employees. Rosie over by her desk, gave her a small wave but continued on with her call. Over by the stairs, a pair of interns were attempting to put up a slightly sad, fake Christmas tree. Caroline rolled her eyes. She didn’t know why Elias bothered. That was sentiment she applied to both the Christmas decorations and the work placements. Most of the interns ended up quitting or just no longer coming into work. Regardless, it wasn’t (usually) her fault. It was just a headache for Human Resources. Idly, she wondered how John Michaels, the head of HR, was as she entered her office. He always looked very stressed whenever she saw him. He was probably too busy hating his job. Perhaps she’d send him an email, invite him out to lunch. 

Caroline walked into her office, tossing her briefcase beside her desk before plonking down into her desk chair and consulting her computer. After turning it on, she sighed. The screen was glitching again. While she could see her screensaver, yellow fractals floated across the screen, twisting upon themselves, reaching out towards her. They were so bright. They hurt her eyes and when she closed them, the afterimage danced behind her eyes.

She hit the computer a few times. The fractals fizzed and faded before returning with avengeance. Well, that wasn’t going to work this time. Time to call in a higher power.

About ten minutes later, Paul from IT walked in. “So, you’ve been having computer issues?” he asked in the tone of a man who knows they’re going to have to deal with someone yelling at them over something that wasn’t their fault. It was a tone perfected by IT staff and retail workers the world over.

Caroline gestured at the screen. “The fractals are back.”

“Have you tried turning it off and then back on again?” Paul said in a perfect monotone.

“I- no, I haven’t done that yet. But I don’t see how that would help.” Caroline said. “Okay, let me try.” She switched the computer off and then back on again. “It’s gone.”

“Good.” Paul said. “Now, I have to go deal with the rest of the Institute’s fractals.”

“Do you know what’s causing it? This is the third time it’s happened.”

“I know it’s the third time it’s happened to you, Caroline, because you get me in here every time it happens.” Paul gritted his teeth.

“Whenever I try to fix the computer myself, it never works. I do the same thing you do; it just doesn’t work.” Caroline gestured at the computer in exasperation.

“I’m sure you do.” Paul rubbed his eyes. “But in answer to your previous question, we think it may be some kind of virus. It started with Artefact Storage’s computers and has spread throughout the whole system.”

“Lord, that must be a pain to deal with.” Caroline said.

Paul sighed. “Yep. It really,  _ really  _ is.” He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “We’re trying to isolate it and delete it but every time it looks like we’ve gotten rid of it, it just shows up again.”

“Well, I wish you luck with it.” Caroline said, dismissing him.

“Cheers.” Paul accepted the dismissal. “Mind, by the time we’ve dealt with this, there’ll be some other IT disaster.”

“The Magnus Institute is always on fire?” Caroline grimaced.

“Something like that.” Paul gave a tired smile of commiseration and left.

Caroline turned to her now functioning computer and began her work.

After a comfortable hour of productivity, a sudden scream cut through the musty air. Caroline started in surprise and hurried out of her office. Caroline’s office was on the second floor above the main hall. The main hall was circular and high, cutting through the upper floors. A dome capped it four stories up, artfully designed to be reminiscent of an eye. Upon entering the hall, Rosie’s circular desk would be directly in front, with the Canteen to your left, the Archives and Artefact Storage to your right, and the Library behind Rosie. All this meant that when Caroline ran out of her room to the railing, she could get a good look at what was happening in the entrance.

There was a man lying on the floor, howling in pain. Some of the interns had rushed over to him as Rosie frantically called an ambulance. All around the balconies, offices were opening and soon a host of watchers had coalesced. They all watched in concerned silence as the paramedics arrived and Rosie began talking to them very quickly.

“Did anyone see what happened?” Caroline asked.

One of the men from Research answered. “Yeah, the guy came out of the Archive at a fair pace. Real fast. Then he slipped on the floor and fell  _ real  _ hard. I think the floor was wet or something?”

Caroline closed her eyes slowly. “Shit.”

…

“So,” Elias said, shuffling his papers. “You think we are likely to come into legal difficulties over Mr. Kohler’s unfortunate injury.”

“Yes, sir.” Caroline always felt vaguely uncomfortable around Elias and had developed the habit of looking at the spot just over his shoulder rather than his eyes. “While Mr. Kohler has not yet made a formal injunction, the injuries he sustained are rather extensive. The fact that he already had osteoporosis and that the water on the floor was not from any cleaning or official Institute activity means we are less liable than we could otherwise.”

“But you think this will go to court?” Elias said.

“I think it’s very likely. Mr. Kohler’s hip was broken in the fall along with some other more minor injuries. He’s likely to need a rather extensive series of treatments, and as he worked as,” Caroline flicked through her notes, “an electrician, will likely suffer losses from being unable to work to the same degree as he could previously. It’s unlikely we would be able to directly refute a case made against the Institute.”

“Hmm, this is… unfortunate.” Elias drummed his fingers idly on his desk. “And what, Caroline, would you recommend?”

That was the thing about Elias that made Caroline uneasy about him. He was so very… congenial. Informal. He constantly reminded Caroline to simply call him Elias, fostering a general friendliness but that wasn’t something Caroline wanted. She’d prefer a clear boundary, employer-employee, boss-subordinate, purely professional. If it was kept professional, then Caroline could stick exactly to only what her profession entailed. Blurring that line, being friends with her superior, wasn’t something she wanted.

Also Elias stared. 

“I think settling out of court is our ideal outcome. I doubt it will be cheap however.” Caroline warned.

“I would obviously prefer not to pay the damages. The Institute’s funding is reasonably generous however, I doubt our donors will be inclined to cover a personal injuries claim.” Elias said.

“So, you would be willing to bring this to court.” Caroline said bluntly.

“Put just a bit of pressure on the man,” Elias said idly. “Lawyers can be so expensive, and I doubt Mr. Kohler will be able to proceed if the case becomes drawn out.”

“You’re more willing to go to litigation to squeeze this man out than to simply settle?” Caroline said. “Just… just clarifying.”

“Caroline, I do believe you understand the situation.”

“Of course, sir.”

Elias gave a wan smile. “Caroline, how long have we known each other? Simply call me Elias.”

“I would simply prefer not to.” Caroline told the space above Elias’ shoulder. Maintain the distance. Don’t become involved.

“I simply find the formalities you insist on to be—”

“Sir, I do not see how this is directly related to our current topic of discussion,” Caroline cut across him.

“Very well.” Elias sighed in an exasperated but fond manner. “What about the waivers?”

“The waivers do not cover physical harm, only mental.” Which was weird enough for an archive. “As the Institute does not perform any physically exertive activity, we are unable to have people sign an agreement for physical damage.”

“Well, I rather think in this case it would be rather useful.”

“Yes sir, except the onus was on us to prevent harm from taking place on our premises in the first place.” Caroline said.

“Oh, really?” Elias seemed slightly amused by this idea, as though health and safety laws were such a novel concept. “Well, that can hardly be helped now. I leave this case in your capable hands, Caroline.” He looked directly at her eyes intensely.

“Yes, sir.” Caroline said, staring at his ear.

…

“We’re going drinking tonight.”

Caroline looked up from her salad to see Jessica Malladi plonking herself down on the chair opposite. Jessica Malladi was the head of the Magnus Institute’s Public Relations. In any other office, she’d be a remarkably young head at only 29, except in the Magnus Institute young department heads seemed to be the norm. Besides, she generally only had two people working under her.

“It’s a Thursday.” Caroline pointed out.

“I don’t care. I’ve had such a shitty day. It’s been the worst.” Jessica stabbed at her ramen noodles. “I need alcohol.”

“You sound like an alcoholic, you know.” Caroline said.

“It’d be really bad to say I don’t care if I sound like one, wouldn’t it?” Jessica grinned weakly. “But this cannot have been easy for you either.”

“It isn’t as awful as it could be,” Caroline considered. “The police are dealing with Elias directly and as it’s a criminal investigation, I don’t, strictly speaking, need to be involved.”

“So, you’ve just decided not to be involved?” Jessica leaned back.

“Something like that.” Caroline gestured vaguely with her fork.

Jessica buried her head in her hands. “I  _ wish _ I had that option.” She looked back up. “But how,  _ how,  _ am I supposed to spin the murdered corpse of an employee being found in the freaking Institute?”

“Wasn’t Gertrude found in some kind of sub-basement below the Institute?”

“Does that  _ matter?”  _ Jessica was reaching a state of total despair.

“Alright, alright. Breathe.” Caroline put a hand on the other woman’s shoulder. “Have you had a meeting with Bouchard, or maybe John Michaels?”

Jessica ran her hand through her curly hair. “Elias is busy with the investigation and the police and the Archive staff that found the body. Apparently, they’re pretty distraught. And anyway, John’s probably too busy. HR must have so much to deal with and anyway, John hates his job.”

“They found the body during the- what was it we’re supposed to call it-” Caroline mused. “the impromptu fire drill.”

“Yeah, that,” Jessica said shakily. “What else would we call it?”

“A bloody mess?” Caroline suggested, a faint smile curling her lip.

Jessica laughed, marginally more relaxed than she had been first sitting down. “Yeah, they were fleeing from some kind of … infestation and discovered some previously hidden spot where Ms. Robinson’s body was, um, resting.”

“How do you know all this?” Caroline asked. “Did I miss some Institute email detailing what happened?”

“Oh no,” Jessica laughed. “I was talking to John Michaels and HR has a whole statement on the incident. Also, I was chatting to Viv.”

“Ah.” Vivian always managed to know absolutely everyone and everything that was happening. “That would explain that.”

“To be honest, ‘Line, I think you’re one of the least informed.” Jessica said with an affectionate disapproval. “You’re so isolated in that office.”

“I talk to you and Vivian plenty,” Caroline said affronted.

“But you should come out more,” Jessica implored, sing-song.

“This is just a tactic to convince me to go drinking with you tonight.” Caroline pointed at Jessica with a fork in accusation while hiding a smile.

“Well, maybe.” Jessica smiled while slurping a noodle. “Is it working?”

Caroline actually laughed. “Alright. Sure. You’ve got me convinced.”

Jessica beamed at her, all warm sun.

…

_ Elias Bouchard <ebouchard@magnusinstitute> December 1 _ _ st _ _ , 2016 _

_ Hello Institute Staff, _

_ Just a reminder that the annual office Christmas party is approaching. It shall be held within the Institute in the Long Hall on the 21 _ _ st _ _ of December. There will be a bar and catering with one complimentary drink as my own gift to you all. _

_ Plus-ones are generally discouraged. An exception is to be made for spouses, but I wish to emphasise that this is an office celebration. _

_ There will also be an opportunity for the departmental Kris Kindle, however that is to be organised within departments and is not an Institute-wide endeavour. Consult with your heads of department if you wish to organise one. Last year, Research undertook a Kris Kindle and they have reported it greatly improving morale and being an excellent bonding event, so I encourage you all to organise such a gift exchange. _

_ I hope to see you all there. _

_ Kind regards, _

_ Elias Bouchard _

_ Head of the Magnus Institute, London _

Caroline dismissed the reminder of the annual Christmas party. It always annoyed her just how it was assumed that everyone in the Institute celebrated Christmas. Of course, they all got holiday leave for Christmas but woe betide Caroline if she asked for a day off for Yom Kippur.

Caroline continued through the rest of her inbox. Unfortunately, her prediction had come true- Mr. Kohler was indeed going to sue the Institute. So, she was going to need to deal with that whole headache. She ought to get in contact with a barrister, just a preliminary action. The actual court case wouldn’t be for up to another year, but it never hurt to prepare. Perhaps she could meet up with Christina Clermont from college. Caroline had heard she’d taken silk recently and a senior counsel barrister would be better than a junior counsel. At the very least Christina would be able to point Caroline in the direction of someone who specialised in personal injury cases—

“I want to make a complaint!” The door burst open as Tim Stoker from the Archives slammed it so hard it bounced off the wall.

Caroline looked over to him coolly. “HR is on the third floor.”

“Yeah, well I’ve already been to them four times!” Tim paused then added. “And to Elias.”

“And you think I can help where the entirety of Human Resources and the Head of Institute couldn’t?” Caroline asked in disbelief.

“Look, I am  _ this  _ close to going to the Met with ite.” Tim snarled.

“Alright, alright.” Caroline held up her hands in a vaguely placating gesture. “I’ll hear you out.”

Tim slammed into a chair and dragged it forwards. Caroline hid a wince as it scraped the floor. That was going to leave marks. “My boss is stalking me.” Tim said.

Caroline blinked. Whatever she thought this was going to be, an allegation of stalking was not among her predictions. “Erm, okay.” She shook her head and straightened back into a professional. “And what has caused this allegation?”

“I’ve fucking seen him watching my flat?” Tim snapped. “He just stands across the road, hiding behind a  _ lamppost  _ thinking I can’t see him.”

“Um—”

“ _ And  _ I’ve seen him going through my desk and bin!”

“Wait, what?” Caroline said, this whole conversation had caught her off-guard. “He just—”

“Yes! I’ve seen him just rummaging through my rubbish for anything ‘incriminating’.” Tim gestured angrily and Caroline had to stop her pen cup from being knocked over.

“Um, okay, very well,” Her brain was running a mile a minute, dredging up all her knowledge on criminal law that she hadn’t had to use in years. “Can I take a statement of this… harassment?”

Tim laughed bitterly and when Caroline asked what was so amusing, he waved his hand. “It’s so bloody inescapable.  _ Statements. _ ”

“Right, well,” Caroline pulled out her pad and pen. “Please tell me everything.”

And tell everything Tim did, in a long, infuriated, profanity filled rant. She took frantic notes and once Tim was finished, she assured him she would do everything in her power to resolve the situation. He stormed back out again.

Caroline sighed and leant back in her chair. Really there wasn’t much she could do aside from going to HR or Elias which Tim Stoker had already done so…

Caroline tossed her notes into her bin. Sometimes it was just better to give the impression of action, as a kind of comfort.

…

The annual Institute Christmas party was held in the Long Hall every year. It was, in Caroline’s opinion, a complete farce. At least there was a bar. Jessica was currently over at it, getting them drinks. Vivian was busy chatting up a storm with anyone who passed by.

“Oh look,” Vivian said, delighted. “It’s Sonja Penrose. Sonja!” Vivian waved frantically at the other woman.

Sonja dutifully followed the social script and walked over. Walked was perhaps the wrong word, Sonja Penrose did not so much walk as march. Even at a party like this, she wore good, strong boots. Perfect for running and kicking giant spiders in the face, according to Sonja. “Hello Vivian, Caroline.” She nodded at them.

“Sonja.” Caroline nodded back. Sonja was the head of Artifact Storage and cut an intimidating figure. For one she always carried a knife, bound by tarp, and she had a long scar that ran straight down her face, right over her eye. It was wildly debated whether the bright green eye under that scar was glass or real. Caroline firmly believed it was real - it moved too much to be glass. Her neck and shoulders were also covered in burn scars, which Sonja’s short hair always left on full display.

“So how has the work been?” Vivian asked, managing to sound genuinely interested.

“Same old, same old.” Sonja sipped her drink. “Some of the more recent acquisitions have been more meddlesome than usual. I’ve had to bring in a new protocol.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, we now have to all carry a torch in addition to a lighter.” Vivian said. “Sometimes fire isn’t enough to cut through the Dark.”

“How’s James Harris settled into Artifacts?” Caroline asked idly.

“Oh yes, he’s the reason for the new policy.” Sonja said. “He was a bit too careless with a pair of sunglasses. He was lucky I arrived in time to intervene.” That was the thing about Sonja, and everyone who worked in Artefact Storage; they were very unusual, to put it kindly. Oddly intense about things.

“Merry Christmas, Sonja.” Another woman had wandered over to their little group. “Vivian, Caroline.”

“Merry Christmas.” Caroline muttered, zoned out. She was long resigned to being unable to escape Christmas’ ubiquity.

“Hello Sasha,” Vivian said. “Merry Christmas!”

Sonja eyed Sasha, her green eye bright. Sasha smiled at her with teeth. “It’s nice to see my old boss.”

“I hope the Archives have been treating you well.” Sonja said coolly.

“Eh, it’s been trying.” Sasha shrugged. “The Archivist is a less composed boss than you were, Sonja.”

“I have heard some rather… unpleasant things about Jonathon Sims,” Vivian said. “Which I was surprised by, he always seemed so terribly polite.”

“When was the last time you actually talked to anyone from the Archives?” Sonja snorted. “No offense Sasha, but you do tend to be rather isolated.”

“None taken.” Sasha smiled. “The Archives are a bit odd; I’ll grant you, and at first it was fine but it’s just become so exhausting. Jon’s been… well you probably know.”

“Tim Stoker did come to make a complaint to me.” Caroline said.

“He’s been making a lot of complaints to HR.” Vivian said. “You know, I was talking to John Michaels and he did say that the Archives seem to be a complete mess. Now I would always take his testimony with a bit of a grain of salt, the man—”

“Hates his job?” Caroline filled in.

“Now I wouldn’t go that far.” Vivian said.

“I would.” Sonja agreed.

“It’s not not-accurate.” Sasha said.

Vivian sighed. “I think he’s just a tad overworked. He should go on a holiday, I say.”

Caroline acknowledged this with a head tilt while Sonja swallowed more of her drink. “I’m glad I don’t have to deal with HR.” Sonja muttered. “People who work in Artefact Storage have more to worry about than their employee records.” She looked out across the crowd.

Sasha followed Sonja’s gaze and sighed. “Oh lord, Jon.” Caroline glanced over to where they were looking, Vivian gave them all disapproving looks before having a quick peak herself. Jonathon Sims was following Elias around the room. Elias was being his usual ‘affable boss’ self and was making the rounds and Jonathon was  _ very _ suspiciously passing behind him, watching. Caroline thought he had a tape recorder in one hand.

Sasha closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Right, I ought to deal with that. Nice catching up with you.” And hurried off through the crowd.

Just as she left, Jessica arrived back from the bar. “Who was that?” she asked, passing them the drinks.

“Sasha, you know from the Archives?” Vivian said. “Used to be in Artefact Storage.”

“Oh yeah, I think I remember her.” Jessica sipped her wine. “I thought she had glasses.”

“No?” Vivian said, doubtful.

“I just don’t really remember her looking like that.” Jessica seemed more bemused by her poor memory.

“You do have the worst memory for faces of anyone I have ever encountered,” Caroline pointed out.

“Oh God, yeah!” Jessica laughed. “D’you know, one time I went on a date with a fella and I still don’t know his name.”

“ _ No, _ ” Vivian gasped, delightedly scandalised.

“Yeah, I did!” Jessica said. “I’d met him a couple years back and we were pretty friendly, followed each other on Instagram but I forgot his name. And his Instagram didn’t have his name in it anywhere. I hate people who do that. I need a place to be able to check your name and face. Anyway, we were still kind of in contact and he asked me out and I just thought, why not?”

“How was the date?” Caroline said, staring straight ahead.

“Yeah, it was pretty alright.” Jessica glanced at Caroline’s face and then started back pedalling. “But like, it couldn’t go anywhere. Apart from the name thing, I just wasn’t that into him, you know.” Caroline nodded and accidentally took a sip of too much alcohol and had to contort her face to prevent herself from choking on it. Jessica stared at the ceiling with a flush on her dark face.

“I think you ought to stay away from Sasha.” Sonja said, cutting through the awkward moment that had somehow formed between Jessica and Caroline.

“Oh, why would you say that?” Vivian asked. Caroline stared over to where Sasha was trying to gently lead Sims away from Elias while Sims got increasingly worked up.

“Hmmm, just a sense I have.” Sonja said, the light catching her possibly-glass eye. “I’m going to go have a word with Elias.” She then marched off again.

“That was a little rude,” Vivian said. “Sasha’s always been a nice girl.”

Caroline shrugged. “Maybe something happened when she worked in Artefact Storage.”

“I am not being weird!” Sims suddenly yelled above the general chatter. An awkward silence fell on the party. Caroline could spot Martin Blackwood looking absolutely mortified nearby. Sasha just looked infuriated.

“And there it is.” Caroline muttered as Elias went over to Sims to give, presumably, a stern talk on workplace etiquette. “Honestly, the man’s having a breakdown.”

“I feel bad for him,” Jessica said. “Imagine if your predecessor was found murdered.”

“I probably wouldn’t start stalking my co-workers.” Caroline pointed out.

“True.” Jessica inclined her head. “But it’s all been very stressful. Really I think he should have some mental health leave.”

“You tell HR that.” Caroline said and took a long drink of her wine.

…

Caroline was on holidays - or, at least she was supposed to be on holidays. She was in her parents’ house in Dover, where they stayed during the summer months. Caroline preferred to take her holidays in the off season, all the better to dodge the tourists, so she was nice and isolated.

This was why Caroline was not in London when everything went to hell in the Institute

Caroline had just gotten back inside the house after a long walk by the coast when she checked her phone. Thirty texts and seven missed phone calls, all in the span of the past twenty minutes. Most of the numbers were from the Institute. Caroline was alarmed to see Elias’ personal number amongst the missed calls, Rosie too. Jessica had called three times and had sent a text.

_ Caroline, please help! _

Caroline stared as fear gripped her. Was Jessica okay? Was she hurt? She fumbled her phone as she called Jessica, ignoring Elias. The phone rang a couple times and then it was answered.

Caroline spoke immediately. “Jessica, Jessica, are you okay?”

Jessica sounded hysterical on the other end. “Caroline, oh god, Caroline. You need to come back up to the Institute right now. It’s – oh god, the police are here again— ‘Line, I don’t know what to do!”

“Breathe, breathe,” Caroline instructed. “Just—breathe, okay?”

“Okay, okay…” Jessica whimpered.

“Okay,” Caroline said with as much authority as she could in hiking boots. “Now, nice and calm, tell me what’s going on.”

“Jonathon Sims has murdered a man!” Jessica said.

Okay. That was not what Caroline had expected. At all. Sims had been going off the deep end, but murder— “Wait, who did he murder and, um, was it on company property?” Caroline begged a higher power that the murder hadn’t happened in the Institute. Please, God let it have just been an employee having a psychotic break just outside the building. Let it be someone else’s problem,  _ please. _

“We don’t know who it is but two of the Archive assistants found an old man’s body in Sims’ office. Oh, god, there was so much blood.” Jessica’s voice was increasing in speed and pitch, getting higher and faster uncontrollably.

“Jessica, Jess,  _ Jess,  _ listen to me,” Caroline insisted, hurrying around the house, phone tucked to an ear as she packed her suitcase. “It’ll all be okay; we can handle this. It’ll be okay.”

“Two murders!” Jessica wept. “ _ Two.  _ One of an employee and the other  _ by  _ an employee! I don’t know what I’m supposed to do!”

“What’s been going on?” Caroline asked, zipping the haphazardly packed suitcase. “What’s Elias said?”

“They found the body an hour ago.” Jessica said. “The police are here now and I think there’s going to be an investigation. The assistants have all been called in for questioning, no one’s seen Sims. Elias has been in talking with the police ever since they found the body.”

Strange, Caroline thought, when could Elias have called her if he had been dealing with the police nonstop? Maybe he’d coincidentally called before the body was found. Caroline decided to just accept this explanation. Best not to pull too much at Institute threads. “Listen, Jessica, I’m coming back up to London right now. I’ll be there in two hours, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” Jessica repeated. “I just—oh god, this feels so much more real than Gertrude. I don’t even know why. I knew Gertrude, I don’t even know this man’s name!”

“I’m coming up to London now,” Caroline said soothingly. “Listen, it’ll all be alright, we’ll get through this.”

“Yeah… yeah,” Jessica whispered. “I have to go now and deal with- with everything. I just needed to hear from you.”

“It’ll all be alright,” Caroline repeated. “Just- look after yourself.”

“Thank you,” Jessica said and hung up. Caroline stared down at her phone and ran a hand through her hair. Why did she even bother with holidays at this point?

…

“ _ Caroline! _ ” Jessica was practically vibrating with excitement. “Why didn’t you tell me the Institute had hired  _ Melanie King _ ?”

“Erm, because it’s the Archives? And you don’t want to be reminded of that on-going headache.” Caroline said, directly quoting Jessica.

“I know I said that,” Jessica dismissed, “but this is unrelated to the bloody murder investigation. Come on, you have to know Melanie King?”

“I really can’t say I do.” Caroline said.

“You do know memes, right ‘Line?” Jessica asked. “I volunteer to correct your ignorance if you don—”

“Yes, I know memes.” Caroline cut Jessica off before she made any insinuations about Caroline’s age. (She was thirty-four, not sixty, thanks.)

“Oh good!” Jessica started giggling, “So then do you know- sorry.” Caroline waited for Jessica’s giggling to subside enough for her to get words out. “Okay, okay, do you know the Ghost Freak Out?”

“Yes?” Caroline wasn’t entirely sure where this was going. “ _ I know ghosts, I know bloody, bloody ghosts, more than you ever will _ \- that one?”

“Yeah!” Jessica said. “Have you heard the remix?”

“Of course, I’ve heard the remix.” Caroline said.

“Of course, you have,” Jessica agreed. “Who hasn’t? Well, Melanie King, she’s the woman in the video!”

“What?”

“Melanie King is the woman screaming about knowing bloody, bloody ghosts!”

“And now she works in the Magnus Institute?” Caroline said, a smile pulling at her lips involuntarily.

“I know!” Jessica burst into giggles again. “It’s just so surreal.” She grinned at Caroline, white teeth shining.

“Yeah, surreal.” Caroline said vacantly.

…

There was a general consensus amongst the Institute that the Archives were weird. Not weird in a fun way, weird in ‘we-pretend-this-department-doesn't-exist-because-dealing-with-it-is-just-too-much’ kind of way. Vivian had a whole emotional episode while drinking over their budget a couple years back.

(“What do they need the explosives for? I don’t understand,” she’d wept while Caroline had awkwardly rubbed circles on her back.)

And this was all before Sims seemingly had a mental breakdown and murdered a man.

Caroline made the slightly uncomfortable descent into the Archives. The fact that it was subterranean made it so much worse than the rest of the Institute. The air smelt dank and musty, the whole area either too dim or too bright. The overall effect was rather unsettling.

Caroline gripped the freshly printed waivers that she’d come down to deliver. All members of the public who came to the Archives to make a statement had to sign a waiver stating they wouldn’t hold the Institute responsible for any adverse emotional or mental damage. When Caroline had first started working for the Institute, she’d thought it was overkill and extremely weird. However, since then she’d seen several statement givers return to yell either at Elias, Gertrude Robinson or poor John Michaels. Normally one of the Archive’s assistants, typically Martin Blackwood, would come up to her office when they were running low, but that hadn’t happened in a few months.

“What are you doing down here?” Caroline turned around to see Tim Stoker glaring at her, arms crossed.

“Dropping off the waivers. You forgot to collect them.” She said.

“Waivers,” Tim said incredulously. “What’s the point in fucking waivers? This place it-it  _ destroys  _ people and so you want to wave your little permission slips around like it’s all okay?”

“I am simply doing my job.” Caroline said, jaw tight.

“Sure, yeah, nothing anyone can do, right?” Tim snapped. “Nobody even tries.”

“Could you just take the waivers?” Caroline said through gritted teeth.

Tim stared at her. “You don’t get it, do you? None of you seem to understand that this isn’t  _ normal.  _ You’re all so wilfully stupid!”

“Don’t,” Caroline said lowly, “insult me.”

“Fuck it.” He stormed off.

“If you want to have a breakdown at work, that’s your business but take the bloody waivers with you!” Caroline called after him only to receive no response. Cool. That was fine. This was all fine.

She ran her free hand through her curly hair. She walked over to the Head Archivist’s office and wrenched open the door. The room was empty o _ f course _ it was. Elias still hadn’t replaced the wanted criminal. Caroline was pretty sure he was still on the payroll in fact. Whatever, she could just leave the waivers here and send an email letting the Archives know they were there.

“What do you want?” Martin Blackwood asked her from behind.

Caroline turned around, quite fed up with everyone in the Archives. They didn’t need to act like she was some kind of interloper. “Waivers for statement givers, do you want them or not?”

“Waivers…” Martin said slowly as though they were almost a foreign concept. “Oh! Waivers. Yes, yes I can take them.” Caroline handed the pile over and made to leave.

“Wait, Caroline.” Caroline groaned internally but turned around and smiled at Martin. It was the kind of smile that retail workers had when they’d been working a ten-hour shift and wanted the recipient to know that they were hated. “Listen, I was wondering- you know about the law.”

“Yes, Martin,” Caroline said, completely deadpan. “I do know about the law.”

“Right, so I was just wondering, about Jon…”

“What about Sims?” Caroline sighed.

“Just, if he was, you know, okay?” Martin’s voice steadily rose in pitch as the situation grew more awkward. “Legally, I mean?”

“Is Jonathon Sims legally okay?” Caroline echoed. “Sorry, have I got that right? The man currently under investigation for potential murder, is he legally okay?”

“Yes?” Martin said, helplessly.

Caroline took a step back and ran her hands through her hair. “Oy vey.  _ Martin _ , you don’t need  _ me  _ to tell me that no, Sims is very much not legally okay. I mean I don’t know anything about the investigation—” she held up a hand before Martin could finish opening his mouth “—and that was not a request to know more, but if Sims was the one responsible for the death, at minimum he’d be charged with manslaughter. More likely some degree of murder, but that would all depend on the context. Really I don’t know enough to be able to cast proper judgement of how Sims’ trial will go but—”

“What do you mean will?” Martin cut her off. “You think he did it? What happened to innocent until proven guilty?”

“I’m not a court of law.” Caroline said, exasperated. “I don’t need to be unbiased and also, Sims looks incredibly guilty.”

“You don’t know Jon,” Martin insisted. “He wouldn’t do this.”

“Well, you’ll be a great character witness in the trial,” Caroline sighed. “I’m going to go.”

“You do that.” Martin said in such a snooty tone of voice that Caroline stared at him for a second. He met her gaze with a defensive glare and Caroline decided that whatever was going on in the Archives was outside of her pay grade.

…

“Have either of you seen Sasha James around?” Vivian asked.

“She’s the woman who was in Artefact Storage who definitely never wore glasses?” Jessica clarified. “No, I haven’t seen her since February.”

“Same,” Caroline said. And that had been weird considering how much scrutiny the Archives were under.

“Yeah, I don’t think anyone’s seen her.” Vivian said.

“Huh, weird,” Caroline said. “Maybe she quit.”

…

“Caroline.” Elias smiled as he entered her office. “There have been some recent hiring developments.”

“Oh?” Caroline said to Elias’ ear. “Have you finally appointed a new Head Archivist? Given that your last one is wanted for murder?”

“Ah, no.” Elias’ smile turned faintly wry. “We do have an Archivist again. I’m sure you’ll be willing to welcome Jon back.”

“What?” Caroline’s voice was completely flat.

“The investigation into Jon has been dropped,” Elias said cheerfully. “And, as such, I see no reason not to have Jon return to his role as Head Archivist.”

“I— _ what _ exonerated him?” Caroline was completely wrongfooted by everything in this conversation.

“New evidence has emerged as far as I understand it.” Elias said.

“Right…” Caroline said faintly. “Well that’s, um, good?”

“Indeed it is!” Elias’ good mood was, in Caroline opinion, disproportionate. “Now, I was here to introduce our new hire.”

“Right, yes, sir.” Caroline said, trying to focus on the matter at hand. “Which department are they going into?”

“The Archives,” an unfamiliar voice answered. Caroline looked over to the door where a hijabi woman had been waiting. She gave Caroline an unimpressed look while Caroline tried to hide her surprise. She’d just been rather focused on Elias. The woman’s face did cause a twinge of familiarity but Caroline had no idea where she could’ve seen the woman before.

“Wait, did you say the Archives?” Caroline said as the woman’s words finally registered.

“Yes.” The woman said.

“Oh, okay,” Caroline said, trying to remember whether she had any Archive NDAs on hand. She’d needed one for Melanie King but Archive hires weren’t common and honestly, she ought to be given more time to prepare the contracts. She couldn’t just immediately whip one out. Elias really needed to email her ahead of time. She told him this.

Elias flicked a hand in dismissal. “Basira was a last-minute hire.”

“For the Archives?” Caroline asked, unimpressed.

“Yes,” Elias said perkily. “She has previous experience.”

The woman, Basira, raised an eyebrow at him, fully unimpressed. Caroline commiserated with her. “Have you at least taken her to HR?”

“Yes, he has,” Basira said.

“Well, there’s that,” Caroline muttered, ignoring Elias’ gaze boring into her head as she flicked through her filing cabinet. Every second seemed to pass excruciatingly with her audience sitting in front of her. Eventually Caroline grew uncomfortable enough with the silence and certain enough that she didn’t just have a convenient NDA lying around, because Elias  _ hadn’t informed her ahead of time _ , that Caroline just turned back to the pair with an uncharacteristic sheepish smile. “I don’t seem to have a contract on hand. If you could just come back tomorrow, I’ll have it printed out for you.”

Basira glanced between Caroline and Elias. “You make all your workers sign non-disclosure agreements?”

“Only for… particular departments,” Elias said lightly. “I’m sure you know how it is, no need for the whole squad to be sectioned.”

“So, you make your own Section 31?” Basira was deeply unimpressed.

Then again, Caroline was getting the impression that very little would actually impress Basira. She seemed deeply stoic, almost militaristic in her stance, Caroline thought idly. And then suddenly the pieces of the familiarity puzzle fell together. She’d been police. Basira had been one of the officers investigating Gertrude Robinson’s murder. Caroline’s eyes widened in the realisation, an action that did not go unnoticed by either of her companions.

“I see you’ve remembered our new colleague’s previous occupation, Caroline.” Elias smiled.

“It’s, ah, quite a career change,” Caroline said, glancing back at Basira and wondering if she was imagining the furrowing of her brow.

“Circumstances change.” Basira said flatly.

“Right,” Caroline said and tried not to be too confused by everything that was happening. “Yes, so if you could just come back tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Basira said, exchanged a look with Elias and then left.

Elias turned to Caroline and smiled. “She’s going to prove an asset.”

“I’m sure she’ll fit in, sir.” Caroline said to Elias’ ear. 

“Oh yes,” Elias said as he left, smile still tugging at his mouth, “she will.”

…

The department heads’ meeting was held in the Long Hall, a conference table sitting in the middle of the large room.

Jessica sat down beside Caroline. “Where is everyone? I feel like we’re missing half the group.”

Caroline glanced about. Vivian was settling down while chatting to Rosie. The head of research, Edward Rees and Paul from IT were already sitting down. Paul was fiddling on his phone while Rees was organising his notes. “Hmm, Penrose is always late to these things, John Michaels is probably trying to get fired again and I can only assume Elias is trying to corral Sims. I’m not sure where Diana is.”

“Oh, Diana’s on maternity leave.” Vivian said suddenly from across the table.

“Do you just eavesdrop on other people, waiting for the moment you can say something relevant?” Caroline asked, trying to hide how surprised she’d been by Vivian’s interruption.

“Not generally,” Vivian said, looking slightly hurt. “I just wanted to tell you about Diana. I’m very excited for her.”

“I can’t believe you didn’t know,” Jessica laughed. “You are way too isolated.”

“Not all of us get subordinates.” Caroline said stiffly.

“Subordinates might be a strong term,” Jessica sighed. “They’re barely out of college  _ and _ Elias keeps giving me the interns.”

“Shouldn’t they go to research? Or the library?” Caroline asked.

“Last time we had an intern for more than six months,” Rees from Research said, “they had a mental health crisis and ended up in hospital.”

“Okay, but that was probably unrelated,” Jessica pointed out. “You have the biggest department, why don’t you take the interns for more than a month?”

“It does seem counterintuitive to have the interns just spend a month in each department before leaving.” Vivian replied. “Especially when most of that they spend in the less supernatural parts of the Institute.”

“Are you suggesting we send the interns to Artefact Storage?” Caroline asked, aghast. “Do you have  _ any _ idea how many NDAs I’d have to write up?”

“It’s not like we even have interns for that long anyway,” Jessica sighed. “I just wish I didn’t have to babysit them. It’s like, they put ‘experience with photoshop’ on their CVs and suddenly they’re my problem.”

“Um, Jessica, next time you have an intern, you can pass them over to me.” Caroline said. The whole room stared at her. “What? I can be nice.”

“‘Line, I would really appreciate that.” Jessica smiled at her. Caroline stared at how warm her eyes were. Wow, she had long eyelashes.

“It’s not-not any trouble,” Caroline stumbled. “It’ll give me someone to fetch me coffee.”

Jessica laughed. The sounds of an argument started oozing through the Long Hall’s door. Caroline and the others all turned to look at it. The doors opened to reveal the bickering pair. “—don't think this is important! I need to be preparing for the—” Sims stopped as Elias cut him off with a look.

“Proper running of the Institute is just as vital. Besides which, you need to clear your head. Take a break.” Elias said as he strode through the doors.

“What I  _ need _ is for you to just tell me more.” Sims begged. “Elias, this is—”

“Jon, the other day you fell asleep at your desk because you hadn’t been taking breaks,” Elias said. “If I have to call a meeting to get you to pace yourself, I will.”

“Wait,” Jessica muttered into Caroline’s ear, “are we having a meeting just because Sims won’t take a break.”

Caroline whispered back, “It seems so,” stone-faced. If this meeting was just some sham their boss had called because of his blatant favouritism of Sims, she was going to be pissed.

Sims glowered at Elias and then sat down; whatever disagreement they’d been having clearly not resolved in a satisfactory manner. Elias rounded the head of the table and pulled out various documents. “Hello everyone, apologies for being late. Oh, I see Ms. Penrose has also been delayed. No matter. I’m sure she’ll join us in time. Rosie, I trust you to take the minutes.”

“Of course, Elias.” Rosie said, her pen hovering over her pad. She’d transcribe the minutes digitally later, apparently, she just preferred writing to typing. Caroline couldn’t blame her what with all the various IT issues the Institute was constantly having. “Would you also like me to read out the agenda?”

“Yes, Rosie, that would be appreciated.” Elias leant back in his chair. 

Caroline looked out at her co-workers. Most were taking out material relevant to what they wanted to discuss, Caroline herself had already pulled out a summary of Ivan Kohler’s litigation and several other regulatory matters, however Sims was slumped against his chair, leg bouncing in impatience. He looked, quite frankly, awful. Aside from the scars he and Tim Stoker had gained during the ‘fire drill’, he’d managed to gain one going straight across his throat and one of his hands was… Did he put it in boiling water or something? Good God, those burns looked painful. His clothes were rumpled and covered in dust and his hair was greasy and overgrown. Sims had made an attempt to pull it back from his face but it was still too short so strands fell out of the ponytail and stuck up in weird directions. His skin looked weirdly good though even if Sims looked shattered. Idly Caroline wondered when the man last slept.

The Long Hall’s doors opened again. Rosie paused in her explanation of the agenda as everyone turned to look at Sonja in the doorway. Her green eye was glowing bright and there was a smear of blood on her gloves. Her nose was swollen as though something had tried to break it. “So sorry, I’m late.” Sonja strode in, boots stomping on the floor. “I had to quarantine two assistants after a haunted whistle caused them to attack everyone on sight. Luckily there are few injuries, most can be kept in house I think.”

Elias nodded. “I presume you quarantined them separately?”

“Obviously,” Sonja sighed as she sank into her chair. “I’m hardly new to this.”

“Of course, you’re not.” Elias acquiesced

“I hope you all don’t mind if I go first,” Sonja drawled, “only I’ll be needed back downstairs soon.”

“Sonja, you know we go through the agenda in order of importance,” Elias sighed, “but very well, proceed.” He gave her a wave.

“Well, Artefact Storage has been in relatively good condition. Apart from the break in two months ago. The only thing stolen as far as we could tell was item UN-238, a red calliope.” Sonja said. “All things considered, that’s a good thing. UN-238 never exhibited any effects under our investigations and I, for one, am more than happy to let its owners take it off our hands. However, it is still concerning so I am formally requesting for an upgrade in Artefact Storage’s security both external and internal.”

“Artefact Storage already has an extensive security system.” Elias said. “It’s been upgraded twice in the past six years.”

“Well, explain to me how all the cameras inside broke or just show distorted footage.” Sonja snapped. “Honestly, we should be able to see within our own Institute.”

At this Sims started laughing, the hysterical laugh of a man who hasn’t slept in several days and is running on terror and adrenaline. Jessica whispered into Caroline’s ear. “I’m kinda worried about Sims, he looks like he’s going through something.”

“You tell him that.” Caroline said out of the corner of her mouth. She highly doubted Sims would be open to any kind of intervention.

“Sonja,” Vivian was saying, “I don’t know if we have the finances for that.” She scrolled through what seemed like a very complex spreadsheet. “Reviewing the annual budget, Artefact Storage already receives more than it shou—more than expected,” she corrected herself in the face of Sonja’s slowly raising eyebrow.

“I’m sure we can shake more funding out of someone.” Sonja looked over at Jessica. “That’s your job, right?”

“I prefer to deal with the institute’s donors personally.” Elias said, and Jessica breathed a sigh of relief. “And while we have very generous donors, I am uncertain how willing they will be to finance steel doors.”

“Wouldn’t those also be a fire hazard?” Caroline wondered.

“Would hardly be the first fire hazard in Storage.” Sonja said. Everyone tactfully tried to avoid looking at the burn scars covering her neck and shoulders. “Anyway, I just think solid steel would be good at stopping anything from breaking out again.”

“Erm, don’t you mean breaking in again?” asked Vivian. “Since we’re talking about the break-in.”

Sonja nodded sagely. “Yes, that too.”

“I am willing to look into improving Artefact Storage’s security, and indeed the entire Institute’s security if needs be, however a renovation of that level would require planning permission that I doubt the local council will be willing to give as the Institute is a historic site.” Elias said. “Additionally, it would require the removal and temporary storage of many of the artefacts which, I’m sure you’ll agree, is unfeasible.”

“I get that,” Sonja said. “But we are due an upgrade. Look, if someone had broken into the Archives, you’d be hopping about approving extra security measures.”

“The Archives don’t even have security cameras.” Paul from IT pointed out, confused. “Quite frankly, they’re more vulnerable than Artefact Storage which I believe was renovated about four years ago.”

“I can confirm that Artefact Storage was renovated in September 2013.” Rosie piped up, still furiously taking minutes.

“Thank you, Rosie,” Elias said. “This proposal will fall under advisement and we may review it at a later time.”

Beside Caroline, Jessica slid further down her chair in exhaustion and Caroline was inclined to agree. This looked like it would be a long and ultimately pointless meeting.

…

Jessica glared at the coffee machine. “You’d think this would be faster.”

Caroline swirled her tea thoughtfully, waiting for it to cool. “Why was the coffee machine replaced? I didn’t think anyone had an issue with it.”

The other occupants of the breakroom didn’t seem inclined to helpfully provide the answer. There was a pair Caroline was fairly certain was from Research eating a pack of the cheap Tesco biscuits over by the table and Paul from IT was surreptitiously pouring  _ something _ from a flask into his mug. None of them acknowledged Caroline or Jessica.

“God, I don’t know,” Jessica said in exasperation, “all I know is this new one is the bane of my existence.” She shot it a filthy look. “Apparently Elias used it one day and declared the quality of the coffee subpar.”

“So, he replaced it?” Caroline raised an eyebrow. “He’s barely in the breakrooms- actually doesn’t he have a kitchen off his office, with a coffee machine?”

“Yep.” Jessica popped the p loudly.

“Wow,” Caroline said. The pair watched the coffee machine make more vaguely distressed sounds while no coffee came out. “Did you put the filters in?”

“ _ Yes _ , I put the filters in.” Jessica snapped, glaring at the machine.

“You could always try hitting it.” Caroline suggested, sipping her tea.

“I’m not just going to hit it.” Jessica said aghast. “What if I broke it?”

“You’re right.” Caroline agreed. “Don’t want to damage company property.”

“I also don’t want to break the only coffee machine for two floors.” Jessica said. “What do you think Rosie will do without her coffee?”

“Good point.” Caroline shuddered. Rosie was normally a wonderful, cardigan wearing woman who took it upon herself to act as everyone’s aunt but she also was entirely held together by coffee. The one time Rosie hadn’t had her two morning cups, she’d managed to make John Michaels from HR cry and forever earned Caroline’s fear.

“Elias has been arrested!”

The breakroom door was flung inside with the force of Vivian’s kick as she made her announcement. It hit the wall with a loud bang and immediately bounced off it, barely missing Vivian as she strode into the now silent room. The pair of researchers stared at Vivian and Paul from IT looked like he wanted to take his flask out again.

“What?” Caroline eventually said, more to fill the silence than any real desire to know the answer.

“I’ve just heard it from Rosie,” Vivian said with a rather intense excited fear. “Elias was arrested at the hospital for murder.”

“No,” Jessica moaned, putting her face into her hands, “no, not more murders.”

Caroline awkwardly rubbed her back in an attempt at consolation before part of what Vivian said sank in. “Wait, why was Elias in the hospital?”

“Because Jonathon Sims is in a coma after an explosion.” Vivian said, a touch of hysteria entering her voice.

“I—he—I’m sorry,  _ what? _ ” Caroline spluttered. Paul from IT took a big swig of his flask and left the room.

“Isn’t that the weird one from the Archives?” One of the researchers asked.

“They’re all weird in the Archives.” The other researcher muttered. “But seriously an  _ explosion _ ?”

Caroline turned to Vivian, hoping for more information because seriously, what the fuck? Why was  _ Sims  _ in an explosion, why was Elias doing murder, who did he murder, there were too many questions trying to force their way out of Caroline’s mouth so she ended up settling on all-consuming “What the hell is going on?”

“I have no idea,” Vivian said, mania ramping up, “I don’t know what’s been going on but I think Elias was the one who killed Gertrude Robinson and the John Doe.”

Jessica started crying. Caroline upgraded from awkward back rubs to awkward side hug with shoulder rubs. Jessica leaned into her, putting her face into the crook of Caroline’s neck. Vivian continued to elaborate on the long dossier Rosie had given her. For some unknown reason, contrary to all logic or common sense, Jonathon Sims, Tim Stoker, Alice Tonner (who was apparently an employee, Caroline just assumed this was one of her many co-workers she didn’t know even if Vivian stumbled a little over the name) and Basira Hussain had entered an abandoned wax museum as it was slated for demolition. Only Basira had come out without injuries, Sims was in a coma, Stoker was dead and they hadn’t found Tonner’s body.

“What the fuck?” breathed one of the researchers while the other nodded along in shock.

“What am I supposed to do?” Jessica finally seemed ready to use words again. “We’re never going to recover from this. We were already a laughing stock and then there were two murders, both of which, it turns out, were done by the director of the Institute! How am I supposed to ever separate the Institute from  _ that _ ? We’re going to end up some fucking haunted curio, show up on ghost hunting Youtube. And that’s the best-case scenario. How are we supposed to have donors with  _ murder  _ hanging over our heads?”

Caroline felt a chill run down her spine. She hadn’t even thought about funding, normally Elias dealt with that. What were they supposed to do? “Wait, who’s in charge of the Institute right now? I mean, if Elias is gone…”

The five of them exchanged looks. There wasn’t, as far as Caroline was aware, an official procedure for appointing a new director. In the past, the head of the Institute had explicitly stated who they wished to succeed them. It was a bloody stupid method, Caroline was quickly realising, they had no idea what to do now. They were leaderless because their leader had, apparently,  _ been a murder _ . Elias had been a murder. The thought sank into Caroline. He’d murdered an employee for no discernible reason  _ years _ ago and no one had realised. Were Gertrude and the John Doe his only victims? How close had he come to murdering anyone else in all that time. Caroline suddenly felt a need to run through every meeting she’d had with him. She shivered, not just from the thought but also the sudden chill that had seemingly fallen on the break room.

“That would be me.” A man said.

The five of them jumped, Caroline dislodged Jessica and felt a pang of regret as the other woman moved away from her. They all turned to look at the man Caroline would’ve sworn hadn’t been there a second ago. He must just be surprisingly stealthy for such a large man, Caroline tried to convince herself.

“Hello,” the man said cheerfully, “my name is Peter Lukas.”

“Your family is a donor.” Vivian eventually said into the uncomfortable silence. She immediately looked like she regretted saying it but Peter Lukas just smiled.

“That is correct, and I am now acting director of the Magnus Institute.” Lukas said this like it was some kind of inside joke he was sharing with no one.

“What,” Caroline said flatly. “You don’t even work here.”

“Yes, I understand some might see that as a bit of a hurdle,” Lukas acknowledged, “but I’m sure you’ll manage. You see, Elias left me in charge.”

“Elias killed two people.” Jessica spluttered.

“Unfortunate that,” Peter agreed. “I have heard from other employees that they’d recommend ‘less murder’ as a workplace policy.” Caroline wondered distantly if that was a normal question on employee satisfaction surveys. “Anyway, you’ll find that Elias left a letter insisting I look after his Institute while he’s indisposed.”

“In prison. He’s in prison.” Jessica was completely taken aback by the matter-of-fact way Lukas was talking about this. Caroline could hardly blame her, Lukas was acting as though Elias was on a holiday. 

“Exactly.” Lukas was unsettlingly cheerful in such a hollow way. It set Caroline’s teeth on edge. “And I think you’ll find that it’s official Magnus Institute policy that the previous director chooses his successor.”

“Is this true?” Vivian turned to Caroline, looking for some kind of salvation.

Despairingly, Caroline nodded. “He’s right.”

“Of course I am!” Lukas said. “Well, I’m glad that’s all sorted out. I’m sure I can rely on you to disperse the news to the rest of your, ah, colleagues.” He said the word like it was a viral infection.

“Aren’t you going to? Sir?” Vivian asked. “Maybe send out an email?”

“An email,” Lukas rolled the word around in his mouth, “what an idea! Perhaps I will, but I’m sure you’ll helpfully inform others of the management change?” One of the researchers numbly nodded which Lukas took as a confirmation they’d all do as he said. “Excellent! Now, I’ll need to be getting along.”

And then he just walked straight out of the break room, leaving behind stunned, foggy silence.

“He didn’t ask us for our names.” One of the researchers said eventually. No one responded. In the corner, the coffee machine beeped as it finally finished making Jessica’s coffee.

Caroline looked over at Jessica. “You’ll probably be needing that,” she said helpfully.

…

“Sir, I’m sorry but I simply cannot comment on that,” Caroline said, phone tucked between her ear and her shoulder as wrote notes. “But I can assure you that the Magnus Institute does not endorse any form of illegal activity… Yes, there were those murders, but those—listen, I can assure you that no employee has broken into your house to try to contact spirits.”

The man on the other end of the call swore violently at her and hung up. Rude. Caroline hung up her own landline, still not entirely certain why Rosie insisted on forwarding these types of calls over to her. She wasn’t a bloody secretary. Still, this wasn’t the first time she’d had to deal with someone alleging the Institute had been engaged in criminal activity. At least this time it wasn’t about a murder. Or tax evasion.  _ That  _ had been a headache inducing month. Surprisingly, the audit was dropped after Elias met with the head auditor. Well, this case would require far less effort. 

Caroline swung herself out of her chair, and left her office. Her heels clacking in the corridor seemed to echo more than usual, the whole building oddly muffled. The peace was quite nice, if Caroline was being honest. Although, it was distinctly odd for her to walk into Research to dead silence.

Research was the largest department and was typically buzzing; there wasn’t enough space for everyone and it was an open floor office, meaning everyone was tripping over each other and there was no semblance of privacy. Things from people’s desks spilled over onto their neighbours, research files would be stacked on the floor in what was definitely a fire hazard, and the lights were always too bright. There was no separation between senior and junior Researchers, and someone was always explaining something. The only respite was in Edward Rees’ office. It had a glass wall separating it from the other Researchers but mercifully had its own shelves. In short, Research was normally an over-crowded buzz of information with no privacy, but now…

It looked like the population had been cut by a third and with this extra space, cubicles had been installed. There was a heavy, oppressive atmosphere, everyone sat at their space, staring at their computer or papers. It was, frankly, eerie. The ticking of the clock on the wall rang out in the silence. Caroline walked in, past several cubicles, the carpet absorbing her footsteps. A couple employees looked up from the work to glance at her but then immediately looked back down again.

Caroline was grateful for the room’s relatively small size as she made her way over to Rees’ door. She rapped her knuckles against it and immediately regretted the action as the sound rang out. It felt as though the entire room had turned to stare at her, so Caroline decided to sod full politeness and just go into the office.

Rees was just looking up from his work as Caroline closed the door. “Oh, Caroline, unusual to have you in here.”

“I am aware,” Caroline said flatly. “I just got off the phone with a Mr. Heffernan, who claims to have spotted a pair of researchers fleeing his property, and I would just like to remind you that your subordinates aren’t generally supposed to be breaking and entering in pursuit of their research. An activity I’m sure they never do. I’m certain Mr. Heffernan was simply mistaken.”

“Of course he was. My researchers would never do anything outside the law.” Rees said with an expression that said ‘yes, we absolutely use illegal means to get results’.

“Glad to hear it,” Caroline said while her face said ‘if you’re going to do it, don’t get caught.’

“I’ll have a word with the lot of ‘em about it, though.” Rees said, sheepishly. “Make sure none of that carry on is, ah, visible.”

“Not visible because it’s not happening, right?” Caroline said.

“Oh yes, everything’s very proper here.” Rees said.

“Great, that’s all,” Caroline said, just as she was leaving her curiosity demanded she ask about the office restructuring. “Oh, by the way, the cubicles are new?”

“Oh yes,” Rees said. “It’s been blessedly quiet, I haven’t had to mediate an argument about spilled coffee for a whole week.”

“Seems like there’s been a bit of downsizing to accommodate it?”

Rees looked nervously up at the ceiling as though it was listening before smiling tightly at her. “Upper management thought to make some…  _ structural  _ changes.”

“…Right,” Caroline said, a tad unnerved but, on the other hand, this was definitely not her jurisdiction, ergo, not her problem. If Rees needed help, he could always go to HR. They had to be aware of the loss of employees, right?

It was fine.

…

Caroline was walking into the cafeteria for lunch when she saw Melanie King. She was leaving the stairs going to the Archives and Artefact Storage and seemed to be covered in what Caroline decided to believe was red paint and plaster. The Archives must be doing some redecorating. It would explain all the loud thumps that had been coming from downstairs.

“Hello, Melanie,” Caroline greeted her.

“Fuck off!” She snarled, stomping off.

Caroline reeled back. Okay then.

…

O’Malley’s pub was like all Irish pubs everywhere that weren’t in Ireland. This is because all Irish pubs are exactly the same, filled with old Guinness posters, green lights and some awful fiddle playing in the background. Caroline was grateful that O’Malley’s was generally too full and noisy for the music to be properly heard. O’Malley’s was the unofficial official Institute haunt. It was where the workers ended up for celebrations or after holidays or just for a Friday night after dealing with all of the nonsense of their workplace.

That was why Caroline, Jessica and Vivian were currently there. Caroline took a swig of her beer while Jessica tried to convince Vivian to get a cocktail with her.

“They’re overpriced,” Vivian insisted. “Besides, it’s not as though this is a special occasion or the pub’s offering a deal.”

“C’mon, Viv, you know I like my alcohol sweet,” Jessica wheedled, “and I don’t want to be the only one—”

“Suffering?” Caroline offered. “You know O’Malley’s can’t do a proper cocktail.”

“I know,” Jessica sighed. “I just—it’s been a long week.”

“It’s been more than  _ one _ long week,” Vivian agreed. “Alright, I’ll get one cocktail with you,  _ one _ .”

“Huzzah,” Jessica said and dragged Vivian off to the bar.

A couple hours later, Caroline was feeling pleasantly buzzed and Jessica was getting into office politics.

“So, like, how did  _ Martin Blackwood _ end up running the Institute?” Jessica slurred. “I mean, he was like an  _ archival  _ assistant. Not even Head Archivist. And the Archives are the least relevant department to anything.”

“Bit harsh.” Vivian said idly.

“ _ Technically,”  _ Caroline said very deliberately, “he’s just Peter Lukas’ assistant.”

“Why is Peter Lukas even in charge? He’s never even worked here!” Vivian agreed enthusiastically.

“We have people who are way more qualified to replace Elias. Could’ve been Rees from Research, or Rosie, or, hell even you Caroline!” Jessica said indignantly. “But no, instead it’s just another straight white male director.”

“And I’m only one of those things,” Caroline said, slightly disconnected from her higher thought processes. “White I meant, I mean, I’m not straight.” A part of Caroline’s brain wondered if this was really how she wanted to come out but well, it had already happened.

“Oh, _oh_ , yes, me too,” Jessica spluttered. “Not white, I mean gay.”

“Oh,” Caroline said, sure her blush was from the alcohol and not anything else. She then, just to fill the silence, said stupidly, “Well, at least Peter Lukas is the first director to actually have facial hair. That’s some kind of difference.”

“He is?” Vivian asked, surprised. “How do you even know?”

“Have you never had to wait outside Elias’ office for, like, half an hour?” Jessica explained. “There’s a whole bunch of portraits of past directors, and they’re all clean shaven twinks.”

Caroline snorted, the not-inaccurate description catching her completely off guard.

“Truly breaking the glass ceiling,” Jessica continued sardonically. “I propose we get some more drinks to celebrate!”

“Here, here,” Caroline said, raising her bottle in a toast and the three of them went back to the bar. And if Caroline sat just a little closer to Jessica afterwards, that wasn’t really anyone else’s business.

ID [A watercolour painting of two women sitting at a bar with their backs towards the viewer. The two women are facing each other, leaning in close. Caroline is sitting on the left, her features obscured with the profile of her nose visible. She is pale with wavy, brown shoulder length hair and is wearing a light green blouse. Jessica is sitting on the right with her arm resting on the back of Caroline’s chair. Jessica is shorter, has brown skin and black hair in a long, curly ponytail, and is wearing a sleeveless shirt that is orange and pink.] End ID.

…

“You know, I was down in the Archives the other day,” Vivian said, “because they haven’t submitted a budget proposal.”

“Because they have no Head Archivist?” Caroline asked tiredly. This was the second time in Sim’s tenure that he had been unavailable to do his job, for entirely legitimate reasons, yet was inexplicably not replaced. Caroline was more inclined to be sympathetic this time - the man  _ was _ in a coma - than when he was on the run for potential murder, but it still rankled her. She’d rather thought that one of the few benefits of Elias’ arrest would be the end of Elias’ bizarrely preferential treatment of Jonathon Sims and the Archives as a whole. Caroline was very wrong about this.

“I assume that’s why they haven’t done it yet,” Vivian said generously. “Anyway, I wanted to know what they were doing about those renovations. I remember you mentioned seeing Melanie while she was doing it.”

“Ah yes,” Caroline agreed.

“I thought it a bit strange that I hadn’t been told anything about it, and honestly I was a tad curious.” Vivian said in her ‘hungry for gossip’ voice. “Rosie didn’t know anything about it either.”

“Strange,” Caroline said.

“I  _ thought _ so,” Vivian said, happy to be validated. “So, I went down and you know, the Archives looked the exact same. No new red paint!”

“Really?” Caroline asked. “Odd.”

“I know,” Vivian trilled, “I asked Basira, oh do you know Basira? She’s quite lovely, very practical—”

“—Yes, I know Basira.” Caroline cut her off. “I had to get her set up in the Archives.”

“Oh right, the NDAs,” Vivian said. “But yes, Basira had no idea what I was asking about. She says they’ve done no redecorating.  _ Except _ , they’d painted one of their doors yellow.”

“Yellow?”

“Yeah, yellow,” Vivian said. “I thought it was quite nice, really. Very cheerful. Brightens up that dingy basement. But it’s odd that’s all they did.”

“And that they wouldn’t acknowledge it.” Caroline agreed.

“Exactly! I just thought it was a little odd, and they still haven’t submitted a budget suggestion.” Vivian grumbled that last part and Caroline gave her a sad pat on the shoulder.

“It’s not the weirdest thing about downstairs. Do you know, they have several cots down there? I think Basira and Melanie are  _ living _ down there.” Vivian said conspiratorially.

“That’s definitely violating some health and safety guideline.” Caroline said.

“Who are we supposed to report that to?” Vivian pointed out.

Caroline sighed; she’d been doing a lot of that recently. “Is HR still doing their job?”

“I have no idea.” Vivian said. Caroline nodded. That sounded about right.

…

It was a miserable March day. It wasn’t properly raining, but light raindrops misted through the air in a haze, leaving everything vaguely damp and dreary. Caroline had her coat collar turned up against the chill, clutching breakfast she’d nabbed from a café on the way in. She hoped the croissant hadn’t gotten wet. It was a little treat to herself, something to keep her going through all this madness.

As Caroline walked into the Institute’s lobby, she saw the haunting figure of Jonathon Sims hovering near the cafeteria. For a second, Caroline really believed that the supernatural was real, that the researchers and Sonja were right, and she was staring at a ghost. The spectre of Jonathon Sims, tormenting the Magnus Institute after finally dying. Then the rest of Caroline’s brain kicked into gear and she realised, belatedly, that Sims had recovered from his ‘workplace accident’ (she still couldn’t believe that’s what it was filed as; he hadn’t even  _ been in the Institute  _ at the time) and was now back to work.

He seemed to be watching her, huge eyes in his sunken face just locked onto her. It was unsettling. Caroline had the distinct impression that his eyes would follow her wherever she went and had the sudden urge to walk back and forth very quickly just to see Sims’ eyes flick back and forth. It would be funny.

Caroline decided that she definitely hadn’t been getting enough sleep recently if this was something she was contemplating. She went to walk towards the stairs to the first floor but Sims moved suddenly, walking towards her. There was an odd jerkiness to his movements that he’d lacked before his hospitalisation. Couldn’t comas leave brain damage or never damage or something? He probably had some motor issues. She wouldn’t mention it, that would be rude.

“Hello Jonathon, welcome back.” Caroline greeted the man as he stopped in front of her.

He stared at her intently, with the kind of tired desperation that Caroline associated with students pouring over notes at three in the morning before an exam. “Your mother,” Sims said eventually.

“What?” Caroline stared at him.

“You should check in on her,” Sims said ominously. “And, make sure you give her rug to Artefact Storage. Or burn it. Burning it is probably better.”

“Her—I—what are you doing?” Caroline stuttered. Sims simply shook his head sadly before floating away towards the basement stairs.

Caroline stared after him as Sims walked away. What just happened? Was Sims now some kind of creepy omen giver? What had that cryptic message even meant? Was her Ima alright? Caroline knew she’d been quite lonely since her father had died.

“Oh, is Sims back?” Jessica asked, walking up behind Caroline, clutching a takeaway coffee.

“Yeah… I guess he is,” Caroline said distantly, “I need to go call my ima.”

…

Caroline didn’t quite stomp into Artefact Storage because 1. that would be impolite, and 2. high heels made stomping impractical. Besides, she had an entire rug tucked under one arm and it was  _ heavy _ and bulky and awkward.

Artefact Storage was made up of two areas: the public offices and the main storage and testing centre. Caroline had never been in the more secure side of Artefact Storage and frankly, didn’t want to. Unfortunately, most of the workers spent all their time in the off-limits section, so Caroline had to sit and wait for someone to notice she was here. She set the rug down on one of the empty desks and leant against the wall to wait. She glared at the rug.

It definitely wasn’t haunted, because she did not deal with supernatural things. If the supernatural exists, it happened to someone  _ else _ . Why had she even taken Sims’ advice? Because he managed to freak her out just enough and her ima seemed just a bit off when she visited her, so… So here she was, with a rug, at Artefact Storage.

“Oh, Caroline.” Caroline looked up to see Sonja Penrose come out of the off-limits door. Her outfit definitely wasn’t to Institute regulations, she was wearing a bloody tank top. “What are you downstairs for?”

“There’s this rug…” Caroline trailed off, vaguely gesturing at it.

Sonja leaned over it, examining it intently. “Hmmm, yeah, this definitely looks like one of the Gaslighters. I can definitely take that off your hand.”

“You—you think it’s real?” Caroline asked.

Sonja looked back up at her, the light making her green eye almost seem to glow. “Obviously.”

“Oh, yes, sure,” Caroline mumbled, still not convinced of the rug’s supposed spookiness. “Well, that was all.”

“Fair enough, cheers.” Sonja said, hoisting the rug over her shoulder one armed. Caroline desperately ignored her co-worker’s muscles. Sonja gave Caroline a brisk nod and left back into Storage. Caroline left Artefact Storage, already casting the potential supernatural away from her mind.

…

Caroline had tried, alright, she had tried. She’d sent emails, she’d tried to get Martin Blackwood to arrange a meeting with the man, but all of it to no avail. She could not speak to Peter Lukas. This was something of a problem.

Normally Caroline was more than happy to be left to her own devices, she was good at finding her own work and didn’t particularly enjoy being micromanaged. True, it had been very weird going almost nine months without any interdepartmental meetings, and yes, they probably should be getting some kind of administrative direction from the Head of the Institute, not just his assistant but… but they’d been managing.

Except now Ivan Kohler’s personal injuries case was finally making its way into Court and Caroline would need cooperation from the Institute’s director. Lukas would have to make some form of official statement or affidavit to be presented, at minimum. More likely he would be called in to testimony on the Institute’s official health and safety policy. This wasn’t something Caroline had thought to be concerned about when Elias was her boss, but now that he was  _ a convicted murderer _ , it was something more to consider.

And Peter Lukas was completely silent.

So that was why Caroline was standing outside the Institute Head’s office. Not Elias’ office, she had to remind herself. It was Peter Lukas’ office now. Even if no one had changed the plaque on the door which definitely seemed like something that should’ve fixed. Caroline didn’t like going into her superior’s office with no appointment or prior notice, but her hands were tied. Lukas hadn’t responded to any of her communications, so here she was.

Caroline hesitantly raised a hand to knock on the door. It echoed in the silent corridor. Caroline couldn’t help but feel like she was intruding somewhere. Upon receiving no response, and feeling exposed, Caroline hastily turned the doorknob and stepped inside Eli— _ Lukas’  _ office.

It was empty. And cold. Of course, the whole Institute had been cold, for months. It was probably some ploy to save on the heating bill. Didn’t mean Caroline had to enjoy it. She’d surreptitiously brought a space heater into her office. But this office didn’t feel so much cold as it did dead. It was exactly the same as it had been under Elias, same decorations, same furniture, there was even that creepy skull that had been subject to many rumours tucked in the corner of a cabinet. Dust was layered on the books and trinkets and everything felt muted and uncared for.

Where was Peter Lukas? If he wasn’t in his office, where could he possibly be? He was acting as the director, right? Caroline had thought him simply absentee, but now she was suddenly seriously worried he was completely neglecting his position. Had anyone actually seen him? The only time Caroline could think of meeting him was just after learning about Elias’ arrest. Was Lukas doing  _ anything? _ Who was running the Institute? What was going on? There had been various edicts from on high, banning discussions in the library, introducing staggered lunch breaks, etc, but had Lukas been the one responsible? Had he actually appointed Martin as his assistant himself or was this just a very strange work coup.

‘Okay’ a part of Caroline not delving into paranoia said, ‘calm down, no conspiracy theories’. There had to be some kind of reasonable explanation. Maybe Lukas was just out on his lunch break. Yes, it was half three, but some people liked later lunches. Or he could be meeting with donors, or any number of other tasks that could take him away from his office. And yes, while the office certainly looked unlived in, the table had fresh paper work in its in-tray and the chair was carelessly pushed away from the desk as though some had stood up and forgot to tuck it under the table before leaving. The office was hardly personal but there was  _ some  _ evidence that it had been used in the past few months.

The chill was getting worse, nipping at Caroline’s ankles. She wondered if someone had left a window open. Then again, who could have? For all the evidence that the office was used, it felt so terribly lonely.

Caroline left the office. She doubted Peter Lukas would return. Her footsteps echoed in the empty Institute. She saw nobody as she made her way down two floors, and even glancing over the side of the railings she saw no one in the lobby - Rosie was probably out getting coffee; she definitely deserved it - but the strangest part was the fog on the ground. Someone  _ had  _ to have left a window open for that to be inside.

She ignored it and made her way into her solitary office. She flicked on her space heater and basked in the artificial heat. Caroline spent the next three hours that way, cocooned in her isolated bubble of warmth, unaware of the rest of the Institute or the fog seeping around her. For all Caroline knew, she may well be the last person on earth - but that was a frivolous thought and she had work to do, after all. She did not have time for flights of fancy.

Her office door suddenly banged open, the sound shattering the peace Caroline had been maintaining. She looked up sharply to see Martin Blackwood staring at her frantically, glasses sliding down his nose.

“Can I help you?” Caroline asked mildly.

“Are-are you alright?” Martin stammered out.

“Perfectly fine, thank you?” Caroline couldn’t stop her confusion from slipping into her voice.

“You  _ are? _ ” Martin with a disproportionate amount of shock.

“Is there any particular reason I wouldn’t be?” Caroline asked rhetorically.

“No, no, none at all.” Martin’s voice was slightly shrill. “You didn’t see any, I don’t fog, or something?”

“Yes, I did,” Caroline said, watching with interest as Martin seemed to sag at those words. “I assumed someone left a window open.”

“It’s May,” Martin said distantly, “you didn’t think that was a tad odd?”

“I wasn’t really thinking about it.” Caroline shrugged.

“And you weren’t lonely?” Martin asked and well, that was rather personal.

“Listen is this some kind of inquiry into my mental health, or—" Caroline frowned as she spoke but Martin shook his head.

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s—you really noticed nothing?” He stared at her in disbelief.

“Did anything happen?” Caroline asked, somewhat bemused. This was one of the weirdest conversations she’d ever had.

“No, you’re perfect. Great, actually.” Martin said. “Just don’t—don’t try to bother Peter again. For your own sake.”

He left on that ominous note and Caroline was left to lean back and wonder what exactly had just happened. “Was I just threatened?” she wondered aloud.

She stood up, stepping out of her office to try to ask Martin just what that was all about but the corridor was empty, as though he had never been there.

…

Autumn sunlight was streaming down through the dome, lighting up the lobby in a warm glow. It was surprisingly nice weather for late September. Jessica and Caroline were loitering in a corner. Jessica had a cup of coffee and was animatedly telling Caroline about how the internships had been stopped so she no longer had to entertain conspiracy theorist students. It was nice.

The main door suddenly banged open and two people burst in. The first was a short haired woman with a scar on her face, the other was an old man with a scraggy beard. They were both clutching knives. They prowled, movements fluid like cats. Icy fear flushed Caroline’s veins. Something was terribly wrong.

She was proved immediately correct when a researcher went over to ask them what they were doing and the woman stabbed him. The world shattered. Someone screamed.

Jessica grabbed Caroline by the hand and ran. The two sprinted away down stairs, through doorways, not thinking where they were going  _ to,  _ too consumed with getting away. Caroline’s heels were so desperately impractical for this chase that she almost wanted to laugh in despair, but the terror was too much to allow that.

The sounds of screams followed behind them and Caroline didn’t want to try to imagine what could have made that loud thump. Just keep running. She squeezed Jessica’s hand as tightly as she could manage, her lifeline, as they desperately stumbled away from the butchery.

They collapsed eventually in an office off Artefact Storage. Caroline suddenly wished they’d approved Sonja’s proposal for steel doors all those months ago. Instead all they had for protection were the desks. Unanimously, Caroline and Jessica worked together to push one of the desks in front of the door, knocking over another desk in the process.

They hid behind it, leaning against the overturned table, huddled together in a mass of legs tucking into each other and bodies pressed together. Caroline could feel Jessica trembling in fear and she felt so disconnected from her body. None of this felt real. It was too sudden, too scary, she didn’t know how to do anything but panic so she held Jessica together. Jessica clutched Caroline’s hand between them and Caroline leaned in over her in some bloody stupid attempt to shield her from any future harm.

Jessica looked up at Caroline, dark eyes wide, and Caroline was struck yet again by how long her eyelashes were. She really did have beautiful eyes. Jessica didn’t deserve this, she didn’t deserve to be hunted down, she should have a long, happy life. This wasn’t fair. She was worth so much more.

Outside the office came the sound of voices and heavy steps. Caroline’s breath was coming fast and shallow. She knew, she just  _ knew _ , that the murderous duo were outside the door. They were going to die. Tears pricked at her eyes. It wasn’t  _ fair. _

“Jessica,” Caroline whispered, turning to her.

“Line, I’m scared,” She breathed back. “I don’t want to die. I don’t want to.”

“I know. I’m scared too, I just…” Caroline stared at her, their faces were so close. Well, if they were about to die, she might as well. Didn’t want to go into the great beyond without ever kissing her. She could hear yelling and what sounded like a scuffle going on outside. Heavy thumps and a woman swearing. A very real timer seemed to be ticking down, as their death fast approached.

Caroline raised one hand up to gently, and somewhat awkwardly, cup Jessica’s face and leant in. Jessica gasped in surprise and Caroline was ready to move away and apologise but then Jessica was holding the back of Caroline’s head and was kissing back. Caroline melted into her touch. They clutched at each other, terror lending them courage. Jessica’s cheek was so impossibly soft in this moment of desperation and all Caroline could do was bask in the smell of her orange shampoo and feel tears of fear and desperation leak from her eyes.

A loud yell of pain cut through the moment and they broke apart, faces still mere inches away from each other. Caroline dimly realised that she was still holding Jessica’s hand. She smiled weakly at the other woman. “I just wanted to do that. At least once.”

Jessica gave a laugh caught somewhere between joy and terror. “Glad to have the opportunity.” She breathed.

The door burst open. They both cowered, Caroline tried to cover Jessica with her body as much as possible.

The thumping of thick boots rang out on the wooden floor, walking around the room to round the table. Jessica shut her eyes but Caroline was too paralysed to look away as the single figure came into sight.

“Hello, you two. Got yourself in quite a mess, didn’t you?” Sonja Penrose grinned down at them.

Caroline felt fresh tears of relief burst out her eyes and Jessica sat bolt upright, eyes wide in shock. “Sonja?”

Sonja wasn’t looking too great. There was blood in her short hair, bruises and cuts covering her arms, and as Caroline watched, she pushed her green (probably glass) eye back into position in its socket. In one hand, Sonja was holding the knife she always kept sheathed, now that it was out, Caroline could see it was wickedly sharp and blindingly hot. The air around it shimmered in a heat wave and small flames spontaneously erupted along the blade. Most alarming, however, was the long slash across her chest, running from her sternum up over her collarbone and to her shoulder. The slash cut through her shirt and copious blood oozed out even through the free hand she had clutching it, trying to staunch the bleeding.

Sonja noticed Caroline and Jessica both staring at her wound. “Yes, it was quite a scrap. If you would call an ambulance, that would be very appreciated.”

“Are—are you okay?” Jessica asked, social autopilot coming out with a vengeance.

“Could’ve gone worse, going up against two Hunters like that,” Sonja said, swaying. “Still, couldn’t let them run rampant down here, couldn’t let them just kill you two idiots. It’s a good thing I had the Lightless Flame’s knife, is all I can say. I think they ran off down into the Archives.” And then she collapsed in a faint.

Caroline blinked. The whole situation was so surreal that it took her a moment to realise Sonja’s blood was beginning to pool on the floor. Jessica didn’t hesitate, rushing over to her body, pulling her jumper off and pressing it to Sonja’s wound. She looked over her shoulder at Caroline. “Could you call that ambulance?” Her voice shook faintly.

“Right.” Caroline got unsteadily to her feet, reaching into her pocket for her phone. She couldn’t believe they were safe. She’d been so certain that it was the end, that was it for her life, and now? Now there was more. There was a whole future. Of course, things weren’t exactly good right now, Sonja was possibly bleeding to death and the two murderers could return but suddenly, completely unexpectedly hope had been given back to her.

She dialled 999. “Hello, I think my colleague might be dying?” she said to the operator in shock.

…

It turned out that it wasn’t just Caroline who called emergency services, and so there ended up being two ambulances and a police car outside the Institute. The paramedics came and took Sonja away on a stretcher, careful to avoid touching her burning knife.

Caroline and Jessica ended up in the lobby watching Rosie trying to corral people while talking to the two police officers. At one point, Sims and Martin Blackwood passed through holding hands. Good for them but Caroline wondered when Martin dyed his hair. The white streak was certainly distinctive. One of the officers took their account of what happened. Caroline had never thought someone could be so bored by people talking about hiding from a pair of murderers but apparently this officer was ready to rise to that challenge.

After they were left alone again, Jessica turned to Caroline. “Should we talk about what happened down there?”

Caroline could just tell the blush was stark against her pale skin. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I should’ve asked beforehand. I am—”

Jessica took both of Caroline’s hands in hers. “It’s okay,” She said deliberately, bright eyes looking into Caroline. “I, um, well… it was nice.”

“Oh,” Caroline said and then beamed stupidly. Was now the time to be happy? Maybe not but how could she not be? Not with Jessica looking at her like that, so full of  _ feeling _ . “Good.”

“Yeah,” Jessica said. They fell into silence until

“I was wondering—”

“Would you like—”

They stopped and looked at each other. Jessica started giggling and then laughing in earnest as Caroline joined in. The pair held each other as they dissolved into laughter. It wasn’t just humour at the situation but a deep release of all the tension of the past few hours, of the past few months, of the past few years. Caroline had been so scared and it was over, and this wonderful woman was out with her.

Eventually they came to a stop, Caroline wiped tears out of her eyes and Jessica ran her hands through her thick hair. “You go first,” Caroline said softly to Jessica.

“Well,” Jessica said hesitantly. “I’m going to assume you like me?”

Caroline smiled, “Yes, I do.”

“So, would you like to get coffee together?” she asked.

“We already do that.” Caroline pointed out.

“You  _ know  _ I meant as a date, ‘Line!” Jessica said.

“I know. I was just teasing,” Caroline admitted. “And yes, I’d like to.”

“Oh, good,” Jessica said and kissed Caroline on the cheek. It was just a peck but Caroline’s whole world lit up.

“Oh Jessica! Caroline!” Caroline tore her gaze away from her possible-girlfriend to see Vivian, hair falling out of its normally impeccable bun, hurrying over to them. “Oh thank god, you’re both okay.” She swept them both into a crushing hug. “I was so worried.”

“We’re okay,” Caroline said, patting her back, “we’ll all be okay now.”

Vivian released them and sniffed, her eyes watering. “God, when I heard there were people with knives on the loose, and I couldn’t find you—I thought—but you’re both okay!”

“Yes,” Jessica said, taking Caroline’s hand, “we are.”

Vivian noticed the handholding and shot a delighted look towards Jessica. Jessica nodded and Vivian squealed in happiness. “Oh are you two finally—oh I am  _ so _ happy for you.”

“Wait, you knew?” Caroline asked, totally taken aback by this reaction.

“Well, Jessica told me about her, oh how was it phrased,  _ ‘yearning’ _ about half a year ago and well, it was rather obvious you had feelings for her but didn’t realise it.” Vivian said cheerfully.

Caroline blinked a couple times. She hadn’t exactly expected Vivian to go straight for the jugular like that. “Oh, cool.”

“You didn’t need to tell ‘Line about the yearning,” Jessica spluttered; her blush more hidden than Caroline’s.

Jessica and Vivian descended in playful bickering and Caroline looked on with fondness, holding Jessica’s hand. Everything was going to be okay.

…

Two weeks later the world ended.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey so because I'm evil, I'm going to tell you which fear domains the gals ended up in. Jessica is in the Desolation's burning apartment, Caroline is in one of the Lonely's domains and Vivian is in Eye-London.


End file.
